The Reluctant Getaway
by jbluphin
Summary: Five times John eluded capture, and the one time he made sure that he was caught.


The first time John Watson was almost caught by Sherlock Holmes, it was an accident. The second time was slightly more deliberate. By the fourth time John was desperately throwing himself in front of the man, trying to be captured, and _failing_.

God DAMN the man. (John fumed.) For someone who was supposed to be the world's greatest detective, surely one small time jewel thief who _wanted_ to be caught shouldn't be beyond him?

**1.**

The first time John Watson (jewel thief extraordinaire) was almost caught by Sherlock Holmes (the world's only consulting detective) it was an accident. On both their parts, really - John had been minding his own business cracking open a museum safe at the same time that the detective had been investigating the (completely unrelated) death of a museum security guard.

John clung to the ceiling rafters, quiet as he could be, scrutinizing the two men beneath him - a silver haired man in detective plainclothes, accompanied by a tall, sweeping figure in a long coat, with black curls. John eyed the second man appreciatively - just his type, too - alas, this was neither the time nor the place to chat someone up. The dark-haired man's eyes darted up through the rafters, and John froze, motionless, certain he'd been seen. But the eyes moved on, sweeping the rest of the room.

John relaxed as the men exited, and, after waiting a minute, he allowed himself to drop soundlessly to the floor. Well. Almost soundlessly. He winced as one of his lock picks dropped free from his pocket, clattering onto the floor. He was usually better then that, but the unexpected interruption had him a bit rattled.

The footsteps in the hall paused.

"Sherlock, did you hear that?" He heard one man ask the other. John held his breath, straining to hear the reply.  
"Nothing related to the case, Lestrade. Just a run of the mill burglary."

"WHAT?"

And then came the sound of feet running in his direction.

John took that as his cue to vacate the room. He was out of the window and well across the lawn before there was any chance of being apprehended.

"Well. Wasn't THAT interesting," mused John.

After that, John looked up the men he'd run into online. Sherlock wasn't a very common name, and he was pleased to find that the man had a website, one of the first hits to come up. Not only that, but it had a _picture_, confirming that the man who'd so kindly ignored his thievery had been Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Handsome. A detective. A _consulting_ detective. And one who clearly saw the world with a few shades of grey.

Perhaps he warranted a closer look.

**2.**

Since the detective had oh-so-kindly posted his address on his website, presumably for clients, it was quite easy to break into his flat. Oh, he wasn't there to _steal_ anything, per se, just to take a closer look at the intriguing man.

There was a oddly high concentration of CCTV cameras in the area, but John had a lot of experience dodging those, and managed to find a blind spot by the window in the upper bedroom of the man's apartment (currently vacant). He crept down the stairs, confident that the flat would be empty - he'd watched the detective depart almost an hour prior. He opened the door with ease and surveyed the room before him.

There was a comfortable clutter all about - the man was definitely a _unique_ decorator. Laboratory equipment and bottles of strangely coloured liquids rested on various surfaces; a large harpoon rested in the corner; sheet music was scattered near the window and... was that a _skull_ on the mantle? He looked closer. It was, indeed, a human skull. Huh. Neat.

John raised his eyebrows when he looked into the fridge - a head? Really? Well, everyone has their hobbies...

He was about to take his leave when he heard the keys rattle in the front door. He darted up the stairs into the upstairs bedroom and went completely still - he could creep out once the man was out of the hall and less likely to overhear John's exit.

He heard footsteps come up the stairs, and waited for the sound of the hallway door. Instead, however, a voice called out:

"I don't know who you are, or what you are after, but as you haven't taken anything, I'll ignore your intrusion. But I highly suggest that you leave. NOW."

By the time John scampered out the window and up onto the roof, he was in love.

How to best introduce himself and get a detective's attention was obvious. After all, the man caught criminals for a living. So... it should be pretty easy to get caught.

John decided to start small. After all, he didn't actually want to experience much - or any - jail time. So a small offense. Just enough to get him to pay attention.

**3.**

Sherlock looked around the room with distain.

"Dimmock, this is an utter waste of my time. I have far more important things to do than worry about some woman's missing _teapot_. If your police force can't work this one out yourself, you don't deserve my help."

"I just figured, well, since you were so nearby... you might want to take a look," stammered the young D.I.

"Just because a crime takes place on Baker Street does NOT mean I'm interested. At least I didn't have to come too far for this nonsense."

In his hiding place across the street, John sighed as he saw the detective storm off without so much as a glance in his direction.

OK then. Perhaps a little more obviousness was required. Sherlock couldn't be expected to check out every little crime scene, even those so close to his own home, but surely he'd pay more attention if a crime took place under his watchful eyes.

**4.**

At the edge of the crime scene stood the object of his affection, engaged in a heated argument with a smarmy man with slicked back brown hair and an unpleasant look on his face. The latter looked like he was with the police as well, and seemed to be an easy enough target - the man was already distracted - and there was no way that someone as observant as Sherlock Holmes wouldn't notice that the man he was conversing with was being robbed.

John moved with the crowd, breaking off slightly and brushing past the weasel faced man just long enough to snatch his wallet. He kept moving at a slow pace, waiting for a reaction behind him. When he heard nothing out of the ordinary, he paused, and turned. Sherlock and the officer were still arguing, and neither of them were looking in his direction.

Nothing. Nothing!

Just to be sure that the handsome detective had noticed the theft, John went back for another pass - this time swiping the man's cellphone and keys. To make it even more obvious, he even went so far as to glance up as he did the lift, trying to catch the detective's eye.

Seriously? Nothing? No reaction at all?

John sighed, figuring he'd be pushing his luck if he tried again... plus the contents of the weasel-man's pockets were now empty. As he sidled away, he heard that lovely baritone voice announcing: "Anderson, you are more oblivious than ever. Not only have you missed everything of importance at the crime scene, you can't even notice when another crime is committed right under your nose."

He glanced back at that, hoping for some form of pursuit, but instead just saw an amused smile on a calm face, quite deliberately _not_ looking in his direction as the other man demanded to know what he was talking about.

Fine. FINE. If the small crimes weren't paying off, he'd go big. Something flashy. Something to REALLY draw in interest. Sherlock seemed to like the big, weird crimes. So he'd do something truly bizarre.

**5.**

Sherlock didn't usually go in for robberies, but this case was intriguing.

Jewelry shops. Two in the same night. And nothing... stolen outright. But every ring, every necklace, every pair of earrings, swapped. The entire stock of two stores - half-way across each other in London - switched with the other.

The video surveillance at both stores was deactivated; the safes were each expertly cracked, with the contents replaced with those of the other safe; and of course, no fingerprints appeared on any of the stores' surfaces or jewels.

No _obvious_ motive - his first thought was that the switch had been a diversion for some small, pricy item of value to be "misplaced" during the exchange, or perhaps substituted with a paste replica. But after careful examination of the inventory, absolutely nothing was missing from either store. Interesting.

It took a full 8 hours to track down the culprit to a warehouse where both of the stores stocks had been temporarily stored while the switch was being made. Sherlock didn't bother to inform the police where he was going - he didn't want any of those idiots trampling the evidence before he got there. Although the thief would be long gone by that point, there would be hints to his identity regardless.

**+1**

John was waiting patiently in the warehouse when Sherlock caught up with him. He perched himself on a chair, arms folded across the back, as he listened to the detective pick the lock. When the door opened, the man looked somewhat started to find John smiling at him - any sensible robber would be long gone, despite the only tenuous connection between the heist (was it still a heist if he didn't take anything of value?) and the locale. But while John had expected Sherlock to find the threads connecting them, he had no plan to flee.

"I've seen you before," stated Sherlock, blankly. "You pick-pocketed Anderson. And before that, I saw you... weren't you the safecracker at that museum a month ago?"

"Give me some credit, please - I'm not going to admit to being anywhere _near_ those truly heinous crimes which you so spectacularly ignored. The museum I understood, by the by - you had bigger fish to fry - but why on earth wouldn't you try to apprehend a colleague's robber?"

"Clearly, you don't know Anderson," came the dry retort.

John smiled, leaning forwards on the chair, and the detective continued on.

"Well, even if you don't admit to _those_ two crimes about which you so obviously know nothing" - (John snickered at that) - "you can't really claim ignorance of this last one. What I fail to see is the _point_ of your odd theft. Or why you are still here, when you clearly were expecting me."

"I didn't _steal_ anything. Just a prank, really, exploiting a few flaws in their security systems," John smirked. "Nothing you would call _serious_ crime - honestly, I might have done them a favor, they're sure to tighten their security. I shouldn't get much time if you turn me in. And as for why I'm here, well... surely you can figure that out."

"You've been trying to get my attention for weeks." Sherlock blinked in realization. "Why?"

"Don't you know? Deduce it, then, Mr. Consulting Detective. I'm all ears."

Almost automatically at the prompt, Sherlock began to speak.

"You're an military man, sent home by some injury around two years ago. Bored and broke, you probably stumbled onto some opportunity for theft, and found that not only were you were good at it, but it was fun - a welcome distraction from the tedium of civilian life after coming home from a war zone. You have been successful enough that money is no longer your main objective when you steal. You have a strong moral principle - an odd trait for a thief - even when you were trying to capture my attention the value of items you stole was insignificant. A teapot. A wallet. A jewelry store robbery where the entire stock is _moved_, not stolen. You probably mainly steal from those for whom the loss would not be significant. The museum was your regular M.O. You knew they would be insured for their losses. I caught your interest there when I ignored your safe-breaking. You decided to follow up by breaking into my apartment for a quick look about, and introduce yourself through a robbery of some sort." Sherlock broke off his long stream of deductions with a sharp glance at John, looking for his reaction.

John grinned. "That was amazing."

"That's not what people normally say."

"What do people normally say?"

"Piss off. Or perhaps, in this situation, something more along the lines of 'You don't have any proof, you can't arrest me.'"

"Oh, I'm sure you have all the proof you need, Sherlock Holmes. And if you want to arrest me, feel free. Of course," John continued on with a wink, "There are plenty of OTHER interesting uses for handcuffs."

Sherlock blinked at that. Stared a moment at the other man. "Well. Ah. Um. I suppose that since there was no real theft, I don't need to take you in. Then."

Composing himself, Sherlock straightened and went on, as if considering. "And I admit, a professional jewel thief could be a useful contact in my line of business. Perhaps a longer chat would not be remiss, in a slightly more pleasant locale."

"Where to, then?"

"You clearly already know my address. But, it seems to me I do not yet know your name."

John laughed as he stood and held out a hand. "The name's John Watson, and the address is two two one B Baker Street."


End file.
